


Through My Eyes

by anchoringsouls



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Iwa-chan helps Oikawa pick out his frames every time, M/M, MEGANE OIKAWA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 06:56:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5699146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anchoringsouls/pseuds/anchoringsouls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I think if you ever saw yourself through my eyes, you would fall in love with yourself the same way the way I did with you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> By yours truly written at two in the morning.

 

 

 

 

Oikawa Tooru is five when he sees the world clearly for the first time.

 

 

There’s nothing figurative or poetic about it; he quite literally saw the world for what it really was.

Two weeks ago, he had timidly stood behind his mother, eyes peeking up at the lady who managed the small local glasses shop. Behind the lady was a large wall lined up with endless displays of frames. It was overwhelming to say in the least. Nervous, he took tentative steps toward the large case.

“There’s too many,” he mumbled out, thumbs twidling together.

His mother offered him a soft smile, crouching down beside him. “How about you ask Hajime to help you pick out a frame, hmm?” She turns to the older child, who is standing a couple of feet behind them, arms crossed and face set with boredom. Taking his cue, he had walked over to his best friend, tugging the small child with fluffy brown hair with him to get a better look at the glasses.

It had taken them a while, trial and error being a rather long process but Oikawa’s mother had assured them both to take their time. Supportively, she stood beside the small children, showering a very picky Oikawa with words of love and assurance.

The whole process had left Okiawa utterly frustrated. He couldn’t comprehend why he was so different, why there weren’t other kids in the small shop picking out frames. What had been wrong with his eyes that he had to suffer through this whole process?

They had already been fifteen minutes into the process when he heard Iwa-chan murmur out the words of awe, “ _These ones_.” The boy with spiky black hair had nearly shoved the frame into his chest, smiling brightly with excitement.

With shaking hands, Oikawa took hold of the frames, slowly bringing them up to his face and setting them tentatively on his nose. He blinked a couple of times, flickering over the faces of his best friend, his mother, and the lady who had worked there. Both his mother and the shop manager cooed out sounds of awe, nodding their heads in accomplishment.

“Nice, Hajime,” his mother had complimented. Arms crossed over his chest, Iwa-chan had smugly smiled at Oikawa. The associate brought over a mirror and Oikawa had found himself at a loss for words.

These had been entirely different from the others. The frame wasn’t too thick or heavy like the other ones, they weren’t too big or too round for him either. Pleased, Oikawa shyly offered a smile at the lady. Nodding, he had agreed, “These ones.”

And with that, he stood in the same exact shop two weeks later, opening the case to his first pair of glasses. Of course, Iwa-chan was there with him again, his mother dragging him along for Tooru’s own personal sense of comfort.

“Try them on,” Iwa-chan suggested, nodding at the glasses grasped in Oikawa’s tiny hands. Just like before, he let out a nervous breath, slowly adjusting the glasses onto his face.

No words could describe what Oikawa was seeing. Iwa-chan, who stood in front of him, looked nothing like before. His face wasn’t hazy at all and the lines where his clothes met skin weren’t so blurry anymore. Oikawa was left absolutely stunned. How hadn’t he noticed the scar on the side of his best friend’s face? How hadn’t he realized that Iwa-chan had a very dark green eyes? How had he not realized that his best friend was so mesmerizing? If Oikawa had to describe it, it would be like a taking the first breath after drowning for so long. Entirely refreshing. Everything around him was so detailed, like watching television in high definition.

And so, he began to cry.

“Iwa-chan!” he cried out, throwing his arms around his best friend’s neck. Worried he heard his mother gasp.

“You’re such a crybaby! Why are you crying?” Iwa-chan had asked, baffled by his friend’s sudden reaction.

Sniffling into the dark blue shirt, Oikawa attempted to calm himself down enough to respond.

“Because Iwa-chan is so beautiful!” he cried out, burying his face into Iwa-chan’s chest. Behind him, he heard his mother exhale loudly in what was probably relief but then followed a round a muffled laughter.

Tooru hadn’t found the situation funny at all though. How tragic that he had been living like this, that all this time there was something so much better than a blurry haze in his sight. Only five, he pitied the fact that he had missed out on so much.

How was it possible, that the world was such a beautiful entity to see?

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

  
Since Oikawa’s first visit, he made it a routine to drag Iwa-chan with him. Trusting him with picking out the very best frames that complimented his face , the two made it their very own tradition.

No matter the circumstance, Oikawa refused let anyone else handle the job. It wasn’t until Oikawa was eighteen and trying on his latest frames that he realized why he only let Iwa-chan pick them out and why he had him come while he tried them on.

There was something satisfying about getting a new prescription, having his lenses adjusted so that he could see the very best he possibly could. It was reviving, that when he tried on his newest pair of glasses, the first thing he saw was his best friend.

Iwa-chan, who Oikawa didn’t believe could look anymore perfect, would captivate his broken eyes.

“The doctor said this prescription would be a lot stronger than your last,” Iwa-chan informed, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. “How do they feel?”

“Perfect,” Oikawa answered effortlessly. “Absolutely perfect.”

Iwa-chan smiled, a sight Oikawa committed to memory.

“Idiot,” his best friend muttered out, ruffling his soft locks of hair.

“No, don’t ruin it you brute! Do you know how long it takes me in the morning to try and even fix it?”

“Actually I do, which is so infuriating by the way.”

“Jealous, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa jabbed, a sinister smile playing at his lips. “I’m sorry you don’t look as flawless as me all the time.”

“Flawless? This coming front the guy who can’t see for shit,” Iwa-chan scoffed out, leaning back against one of the shelves. “Not to mention, you yourself called me beautiful once Shittykawa.”

“I WAS FIVE! The doctor must have given me the wrong prescription at the time because Iwa-chan is a gruff of a mess.”

It was a lie of course and Iwa-chan had known that too. He simply hummed at Tooru, rolling his eyes and pulling his friend out the shop.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“I don’t think I can make it,” Iwa-chan admitted, voice rushed and laced with heavy guilt.

“What do you mean you can’t make it?” demanded a twenty-six year old Oikawa. He adjusted his cell so that is was tucked between his shoulder and ear while he attempted to finish packing his duffle bag.

“The hospital just paged me, I’m heading over there right now so I don’t think I can make it,” his best friend confessed, sounding breathless.

“You always come with me!” the volleyball star whined out, zipping up the bag. “Can’t you just have someone else go in for you?”

Iwa-chan laughed and Oikawa couldn’t help but pout. Of course he knew that he was just being childish. Somebody’s life was probably on the line and Oikawa honestly wouldn’t want to jeporidize their chances, especially since they had paged Iwaizumi. But that didn’t stop him from being annoyed, and complaining about it all.

“It’s just this one time, Bratkawa. Besides, you’re just trying them on to check if the frame needs adjustments so it’s not really that important that I’m there.”

Wrong. “It’s important to me,” Oikawa blurted out, words heavy with hurt. He quickly covered his own mouth, as if his hand could stop the words from being heard. They were already out in the open and he was more than positive that Iwa-chan could read the atmosphere.

“Tooru-”

“Ah, I’m just giving you a hard time, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa desperately lied. He began to nervously laugh, eyes wide with panic. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he made his was over to the door. “You’re right, you’re right! I’ll be done in less than fifteen minutes anyways. Hurry along, Iwa-chan! I’ll see you tonight for dinner!”

The line was silent for some time, Oikawa’s hand hovering over the knob of his apartment door. “Iwa-chan?”

“I’ll try and make it if I can,” promised Iwa-chan.

_Wrong._

_Heavy._

_Guilty._

Oikawa couldn’t deny he found comfort in those words, even if they weren’t dependable at all. The reality was Iwa-chan had been called in because it had to be something really important and he wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.

But that was the thing about hope. It was still there, a small chance of probability and Oikawa clung onto it.

He nuzzled his face into his cell. “Okay.”

And so he headed over to the shop, the same shop he had been going to regularly over the past fifteen years. The lady from his first visit still worked there, and like tradition, she always went out of her way to help him.

“Oikawa-san, where’s Iwaizumi-san?” she asked while he signed in.

“He got called into the hospital,” Oikawa answered, not meeting her eyes. He did offer he a wide smile though, not filled with any genuine intent though. She still fell for it, anyways.

“Do you still want to try them on?” she called out as she headed to the backroom to pick up his new case.

Thrumming his long fingers against the front desk, Oikawa allowed himself to gaze off into the void. “No, Iwa-chan said he would meet me here. I’m just going to wait for a bit.”

And so he did. He waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited some more but finally, the sun was beginning to set and if he wanted to get to the airport on time, he should have left more than five minutes ago. But he didn’t.

“I’m going to start closing up, Oikawa-san.”

He really should leave. It was evident that Iwa-chan wasn’t going to make it. He had been right, it was childish to fuss over something so stupid. They were just glasses after all, it wasn’t like it was the first time putting them on either.

“Sorry for holding you up,” Oikawa apologized, checking his phone as he stood and headed back over to the counter. The elder lady frowned at him, eyes filled with sympathy.

“You could always pick them up another day,” she offered kindly.

“No, it’s okay. I’m already here anyways. Besides, I leave for a tournament overseas tonight. Who knows what will happen if I lose my contacts? My old glasses are broken so that’s no good.”

Understanding his predicament, she took the glasses out of the case, washing them again for good measure. “I still remember the first time you came in,” she murmured out thoughtfully. “Iwazumi-san was with you then, too.”

Oikawa didn’t know how to answer to that so he just nodded. She continued.

“Have you confessed yet?” she asked, a coy smile playing at her lips as she rubbed the lenses with the soft cloth that came in the case.

Stunned, Oikawa flinched back, eyes wide and honest. His reaction seemed to earn him a small laugh from the older lady.

“No, no yet,” Oikawa admitted sheepishly, rubbing his hand at the back of his neck. he could feel his face growing hot and flushed from embarrassment.

“That boy looks at you like you’re star shining brightly in the night sky.”

Oikawa can’t help but laugh at the image that had popped into his head. The statement was meant to be romantic but all he could picture was Iwa-chan squinting at the sky like an old man.

He hummed afterwards, taking the glasses from the lady’s hold. “Love truly is a strange thing,” Oikawa reasoned, bringing the glasses up.

The door chimes as a cold gust of wind whips Oikawa’s back. Caught off guard, he shudders, turning to the door. In staggers in a very breathless and panting Iwa-chan, white hospital coat still slung over his shoulders.

“You’re still here,” he breathes out, grasping onto one of the chairs for support. “I thought you had left for your game already.”

Too shocked, Oikawa simply shakes his head. “I waited for you.”

“Idiot,” Iwa-chan huffed out, laughing breathlessly. “Well, what are you waiting for? Put them on.”

He’s still hesitant as ever to put them on but not because he’s nervous or scared. No, it’s a new kind of patience that floods him for this moment. It’s more that he’s savoring the moment than anything because there’s something so overwhelming about this moment. The frame glades onto his nose and through his hair by his ear with ease and for a moment, he takes it in. When he opens his eyes, he’s greeted with a disheveled Iwa-chan, still clinging onto the chair.

But his face. Every detail of it radiates, causing Oikawa to swell with appreciation, fondness, love.

“How do I look, Iwa-chan?” he managed to croak out, voice wavering because he’s feeling very sentimental at the moment. If he speaks any louder, he knows he will begin to cry.

“Perfect, you look perfect, Oikawa.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s only a week later when Oikawa had returned from his games and Iwa-chan was off duty for the night that they rest in Oikawa’s apartment, comfortably lazing on the couch only to watch their favorite movie.

Oikawa’s eyes are irritated from starting at the screen so long and he rubs at them, setting down the glasses on the coffee table. Cozily, he settles his head in Iwa-chan’s chest, eyes closing with a peaceful drift. He heads Iwa-chan shuffle for the remote, lowering the volume. They stay like that for a while, Iwa-chan holding Oikawa in his arms.

“Why does it matter so much that I’m there, Oikawa?” It’s vague but he knows exactly what he’s talking about. Still, he doesn’t open his eyes. He clutches onto the doctor’s shoulders, molding himself around his warm and familiar body.

“Because you’re beautiful, Iwa-chan,” he mumbled out.

“I’m being serious, Tooru.”

_Tooru._

“I am too, Hajime,” he fought back, eyes opening. Pulling himself up, he untangled himself from his best friend, sitting up to face him properly. “I think if you ever saw yourself through my eyes, you would fall in love with yourself the same way I did with you.”

He hadn’t planned to confess like this but there was something reassuring about the way the lady from the shop had insisted. It spurred him on.

Hajime swallowed, chest visibly heaving as he inhaled a large breath. “Your eyes aren’t the most reliable, Oikawa. They lie to you sometimes.”

“Then why do you think I like having you there when I try on my glasses? They affirm everything I already believe.”

 _You_ , he thought.

“And what’s that?” Hajime’s eyes looked pleading, as if he doesn’t believe what Oikawa was saying. It had always been like that though. The blurry line of their relationship, where had it started? Where had it ended? Where did they stand?

“That I love you. That I’m in love with you.”

Hajime surged forward, hands settling on Tooru’s face, pulling his lips against his. And just like that, the line wasn’t so blurry anymore.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

“Would you like some help with that, sir?”

Oikawa sets his cane down beside his chair, relaxing into the chair offered by the associate. “No, I’m fine,” Oikawa insists, looking around the shop.

“Shall we get started, Oikawa-san?” the young lady asks.

He’s reluctant to move from his spot. There’s too many memories in this shop. He can’t believe for the first time in his life, that he will be picking out his frames alone.

“Oikawa-san?” the associate calls again. This time he meets her gaze. He nods, gripping the chair to pull himself up so that he can begin his search.

“Ah, that won’t be necessary, sir,” she insists, urging him with her hands to sit back down.

He raises a grey eyebrow at the worker. “Don’t I need to pick out frames?”

“I apologize, Oikawa-san. I thought you already knew. Your husband picked out frames for you already.”

For the first time in a long time, Oikawa feels his heart drop into his stomach. The lady pushes the case gently across the table to him and when Oikawa opens it with shaky hands, he finds himself at loss for words.

It’s like the first breath you take after drowning for so long.

“What do you think sir?”

Hesitantly, he lifts the frames up from the case. They’re the same exact style he had gotten many many years ago on his first visit here.

“ _These ones,"_ he marvels like he's five again, staring at Iwa-chan with nothing but wonder. " _These ones."_  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Short and not too pleased with how it came out but I had to get this out of my system.
> 
> *funfact: this idea was inspired by the fact that I have been going to the same place for over twelve years to pick out my frames and the guy who picked out my first set has been handling all my glasses since then. (I don't trust anyone else lol) 
> 
> Oikawa-the-grand-king.tumblr.com


End file.
